“Joe, this is yours…”
“Thank you, thank you all, and thank Mr. Lance…”
A police officer, his face beaming with a smile he couldn’t contain, took the envelope from the young men and stepped to the side.
Under the gazes of several people, he opened the envelope and took out nine $5 bills.
The smile on his face immediately grew warmer.
This filled the other officers with a sense of anticipation. They had never been able to look forward to an extra income so openly and honorably.
In the past, their income was unstable—sometimes more, sometimes less—and there was also the problem of money being hidden.
Some officers would receive money but not take it all out, hiding a portion. Naturally, everyone else’s share would be smaller.
Just like John, who had been collecting money for half a year, making many things difficult and causing the entire sub-bureau’s income to drop a level.
But now, all of that would be a thing of the past.
The people lined up to receive their money with smiles as if it were New Year’s. Everyone thanked Lance, because this money was given to them by him.
The last to be paid was Sub-bureau Chief Bruce. He thought he wouldn’t get anything, but to his surprise, Lance had prepared something for him too.
Looking at the envelope, which was clearly thicker than the others, someone jeered, “Why not open it and let us see?”
Sub-bureau Chief Bruce’s heart was a little nervous at this moment, but looking at the gazes of the others, he knew that if he didn’t open it, there would certainly be no problem.
But everyone would inevitably be disappointed, and might even have other thoughts.
What people hate most is not being poor because they lack ability, but that when everyone lacks ability, why am I the only one who is poor?
Although this expression might not be entirely correct in this matter, it was the most appropriate way to put it.
In the end, Sub-bureau Chief Bruce still opened the envelope. He believed Lance would not make things difficult for him.
And the facts were indeed so. Thirty $10 bills were stacked together. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Grassroots officers got $45, frontline officers got $60, precinct heads got $100, deputy sergeants all got $200, and he got $300. This number was very appropriate.
It wouldn’t alienate him from the “masses,” but it also showed his special status.
“Two donuts for everyone, my treat!” he raised his hand, and the police officers in the sub-bureau immediately began to cheer.
In fact, this money was just the “regular cut.” Everyone knew that he certainly had other income from Lance’s side.
But knowing was one thing. Since Lance could be fair in this matter, no one had any complaints.
You can’t have a low-level civilian employee demanding to get the same as the chief. The current gap did not breed any dissatisfaction in anyone.
If someone felt they could also get extra income from Lance, they were completely free to try their luck.
This was only a portion of the police’s share. There were still the night shifts and those on vacation. The whole process would continue for two to three days.
Sub-bureau Chief Bruce, including Sub-bureau Chief Duke, had no objection to this. Although it seemed that Lance was constantly increasing his influence in the police system and might even surpass them…
But it wasn’t as if Lance hadn’t given them any “sweeteners.” They also had a very important power in the profit-sharing system, and that was the power to draw up the list.
Who could receive money and who couldn’t was their decision. So even though both of them knew that Lance wanted his own people to distribute the money, this was the reason they didn’t object.
He had left them their dignity.
The police were a very closed group. This matter quickly began to circulate throughout the entire Golden Port police system.
Not every sub-bureau could distribute so much money, and not every police officer was qualified to receive this benefit.
But now, the appearance of Lance had solved this problem.
Although the profit-sharing system would definitely affect the interests of a portion of the police, in front of the vast majority of police officers, the interests of this minority were not so important.
A true open conspiracy is like this: even if you know it’s a conspiracy, a plan with a purpose, you still can’t stop it.
Some sub-bureau chiefs had already begun to contact Sub-bureau Chief Bruce, wanting to talk to him about the profit-sharing issue, and about Lance.
This was a trend.
On the weekend morning, Lance took some time to attend Mr. Jobav’s funeral.
He was placed in a very cheap, ordinary coffin. The plain wood exuded a sense of decay, and the uneven paint marks revealed the painter’s carelessness.
Mr. Jobav, after some simple cosmetic work, lay inside, his hands crossed on his chest, the putty on his face so thick that it looked like a freshly plastered wall.
But if the plaster wasn’t thick enough, it couldn’t cover his bruised face. He should have been peaceful, not unsettling. God wouldn’t like that either.
He was surrounded by cheap flowers, with no other decorations. The suit he was wearing also had a cheap feel to it, not looking expensive at all.
In fact, he had several expensive suits, but it was unknown where they had gone. They might have been put away by someone.
There was nothing of value on his body, except for a photo of him and his wife when they were young. It was the only thing he took with him when he left this world.
Perhaps he himself had never thought that he would leave this world in such a destitute way.
The priest perfunctorily performed his last prayer in this world. No one was willing to speak, let alone summarize his life for him.
The way people judge a person’s success or failure actually doesn’t have as many reference factors as they say. It only depends on whether he was rich, powerful, or poor when he died.
No matter how wonderful the scenery of his life’s journey was.
After the priest finished reading the eulogy, he announced that the memorial service was over. He could be buried.
Some people did come today, forty or fifty of them, most of whom were old employees of Jinda Bank.
They had been under Mr. Jobav’s care for the longest time and had been with him for a long time.
When people spend a long time together, they develop feelings. People who have cats and dogs for a long time will treat the small animals as their own children. Of course, some people will also treat cats and dogs as their parents.
Not to mention, this was a living person. They had experienced the best of times together and had also enjoyed everything that came with working for Mr. Jobav.
Several older-looking aunts even cried out loud. On the one hand, they were really reluctant to part with Mr. Jobav. How could such a kind person die just like that? On the other hand, they were also crying out of anxiety for their uncertain future.
Without Mr. Jobav hiring them out of old affection, they didn’t know what kind of job they could find in these terrible times to continue to carry the heavy burden of life.
The sound of crying added a bit of solemnity and sorrow to the funeral. When his cheap coffin was lowered into the grave, people began to offer their final flowers.
This was also the last interaction between Mr. Jobav and the living.
Lance also walked to the side of the grave and offered the bouquet he had brought. It was thrown into the grave, along with Mr. Jobav’s coffin.
He didn’t have many negative evaluations of this man. He was just a speculator in a political struggle, and a failed one at that.
There is never right or wrong in a political struggle, only winning and losing.
This time he had lost, which is why people felt he was in a terrible state now. But what if he had won? Would people have pitied the fate of his opponents?
Lance shook his head and sincerely wished that Mr. Jobav could go to heaven, then moved to the side.
With the end of the entire process, the workers backfilled the sand and soil and sprinkled a handful of grass seeds on the grave soil.
If it were a more high-end funeral, they would directly transplant high-quality turf, or even make a coffin lid protruding from marble or other precious stones.
But this was a cheap funeral. That money was not worth the cost of transplanting turf, let alone the cost of marble.
The sad or calm people began to leave. He lay there and, in the next few years, would truly die in the real sense.
No one would remember him again, including these employees of his. They would also forget him at their new jobs, or have their impressions of the past worn away by life.
“His houses, when can they be transferred to my name?”
Lance did not leave immediately but walked to the sunny side of the cemetery. On the gentle slope, countless tombstones stood erect. In the sunlight, hidden among the green grass, they actually had a sense of quiet sanctity.
Solemn, dignified, not frightening. This was the place where life ended, but looking at the plants sprouting from the soil, this was also the place where life began.
Roben the lawyer followed by his side. “It might take some time. First, we have to confirm that these properties have not been mortgaged for other things.”
“Secondly, we might have to face some lawsuits regarding the issue of residual value.”
Lance turned to look at him, and he explained.
“If I mortgage something worth a hundred dollars to you for one dollar, and I can’t redeem it, then logically, this thing belongs to you.”
“But if there are many…” he made some small gestures with his body to show the state of being unable to sort things out, “…debts that need to be resolved, then it’s possible that the court will consider the issue of cashing in the residual value of this thing.”
“For example, if the court determines that those people are ‘victims,’ then they might consider auctioning off this house, then giving you the part of the money he owes you, and compensating the victims with the rest.”
Lance frowned. “Is there a precedent for this?”
Roben the lawyer nodded and said, “There is, but not many. So we might have some trouble, not absolutely.”
“It depends on how the judge will define those depositors.”
“However, I think there is a high probability that they will not identify the depositors who have suffered losses as ‘victims.’ If they really do that, then the judge will definitely offend all the banks at the same time.”
“After all, Mr. Jobav still has many works of art and antiques mortgaged in those banks.”
“But we can’t completely… not care. If this case alarms the state prosecutor’s office or the state court, it might also cause some unnecessary trouble.”
The price of those houses themselves was actually not that expensive. Even if there was real competition, Lance was not afraid, it was just that doing so was a bit troublesome.
In fact, there were many things behind this matter. The industries Mr. Jobav had invested in were more than just that, including over a million in urban infrastructure.
If the rich in the Bay Area were asked to invest in these things themselves, they would absolutely not do it.
But if they were allowed to take over this part at a very low price, they would absolutely not hesitate in the slightest.
With the help of the Bay Area, those depositors could basically only consider themselves unlucky.
The bank went bankrupt, the bank owner committed suicide, and left no inheritance. Unless this case had some special political significance, it would be very difficult for it to change.
The main target audience of Jinda Bank was again Empire immigrants…
Seeing that Lance was no longer asking about this matter, he brought up another matter. “The companies you asked me to register before have all been registered and can be used at any time now.”
“These are the materials…”
He gave Lance a thick file bag from his briefcase. Lance had previously entrusted Roben the lawyer to register some domestic and foreign companies. These shell companies might be useful at some point.
The most recent one was to be used to negotiate with the Liji Agricultural Group.
Lance took the file bag and took out a check and handed it over. “You have to keep an eye on the property transfer for me. I might not have much time recently…”
Roben the lawyer readily agreed. Lance was now his big client, and he certainly had to make Lance satisfied.
The weather in mid-to-late September was no longer so hot. Although the change in temperature might only be two or three degrees, it was precisely these two or three degrees that made a huge difference in how people felt.
On the streets of the Empire District, posters of William with a mouthful of white teeth frequently appeared on the billboards.
What was interesting was that the photographer of this poster was a professional photographer. He had used some other methods to make William’s teeth look glowing white. According to his explanation, people are more willing to believe an adult Federation light-skinned male with healthy teeth. They always associate teeth with social status and ability. Lance couldn’t understand their way of thinking.
Voting would start on September 25th and end on September 28th, with the results announced on the 29th and 30th.
On October 15th, the new and old council members would complete their handover, and the new council members would officially take office.
In other words, William was only a little over three weeks away from becoming “Councilman Lawrence.”
“Lance, are you free?”
“There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
In the morning, Sub-bureau Chief Bruce suddenly made a phone call. Lance asked him to come directly. A dozen minutes later, he saw him in his office.
“Coffee or black tea?”
Lance called out twice. In the end, it was a new receptionist girl who pushed the door open and came in. “Where is Corinda?”
The new girl was a little reserved and also a little scared. After all… although everyone said Lance was a good person, and the Lance Family were all good people, this was ultimately a gang.
She was a third-generation immigrant in the Empire District. She had found this job because she had received some training, mainly in clerical work.
Seeing that Lance’s side paid a high salary, under the pressure of life, she came to try, and with good luck, she became a new employee.
“Ms. Corinda has gone out on a date…”
Lance had a high probability of guessing who it was. Undoubtedly, it was Arthur.
He looked at Sub-bureau Chief Bruce, who immediately said, “Coffee, please.”
Lance glanced at the new secretary again. The latter quickly went to prepare.
The door was closed again. Sub-bureau Chief Bruce directly stated his purpose in finding Lance.
“Charlie called me. He wants to meet you alone, just you and him, no one else. You set the location.”
Lance nodded noncommittally and continued to look at him. Only then did he bring up the second matter. “That… there’s a little problem on Mr. White’s side.”
Mr. White referred to Lance’s nominal father. He frowned slightly. “What happened to him?”
Before, his wife had said she had fallen and was hospitalized, and didn’t have enough money. Lance had even had Elvin send some money over and had also kept an eye on them for a period of time, without finding anything unusual.
Now that he was suddenly talking about this, Lance realized it might be related to him, otherwise Sub-bureau Chief Bruce wouldn’t have come to him specifically to talk about this.
Sub-bureau Chief Bruce sat on the sofa, his ten fingers clasped together, then opened them again. Just as he was about to speak, the secretary came in with coffee.
He said a “thank you” and then took a sip of the coffee.
The secretary quickly left. Only then did he continue, “A new resident moved in next door to them. Then they called the police, saying they often heard screams in the middle of the night. Then the police arranged for people to be dispatched.”
“A few rookies didn’t know your relationship with the White family. They searched the White’s residence and found that the White’s basement was like a torture chamber.”
“His wife was being tortured by him to the point of being on the verge of death, and also his daughter.”
“His daughter is also pregnant.”
Lance had already realized something. “Don’t tell me it’s his.”
Sub-bureau Chief Bruce squeezed out a smile. “You guessed right.”
“What’s even more troublesome is that his wife said that their two children were actually killed by Mr. White.”
Lance had taken the place of one of the White family’s missing children. If it was now confirmed that the two missing children were already dead, then Lance’s identity would be a bit awkward.
Actually, no one would think they couldn’t have contact with Lance just because he wasn’t a real Federation citizen. Maybe at the beginning they cared about identity.
But now, they cared more about interests. The awkward part was that Lance now officially used the White family’s surname. If it was confirmed that he was not a member of the White family, he might have to change his name.
After all, people would think, you are not a child of the White family. Is it a bit inappropriate for you to use this surname again?
This was the awkward part. Not only would many signatures need to be re-signed, but people would also think it was like a farce. “Is the case still in your hands?”
Sub-bureau Chief Bruce nodded. “Yes, but because someone died, this case has to be reported.”
The sub-bureau didn’t have a criminal case office; only the main bureau did. So it had to be reported up.
Once reported, it would be in Hunter’s hands, and there might be some changes.
(End of chapter)